


Ass Hugging Jeans

by ofplanet_earth



Series: They Say These are the Best Years [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Bard is a cheeky little shit, Biology, Chemistry, Dorks in Love, Falling In Love, Flirting, Horny Teenagers, Lab Partners, M/M, Motorcycles, Teenagers, The Author Regrets Nothing, Thranduil is a cheeky little shit, bad dick jokes, if you catch my drift, the princess and the frog - Freeform, they're both so embarrassed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5940313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofplanet_earth/pseuds/ofplanet_earth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blushing, jeopardy, dick jokes, and pizza.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ass Hugging Jeans

**Author's Note:**

> I guess that's really all you need to know.

Saturday found Thranduil awake and out of bed before his alarm was set to go off. By nine o'clock he was already showered, brushing his teeth and obsessing over what outfit to wear for the day. In the end he opted for a green vintage style T-shirt and his favorite, most subtle pair of ass-hugging jeans. That, layered with a brown button-up— the buttons left undone and the sleeves rolled to his elbows— and Thranduil had to admit he looked good. He combed his damp hair into a loose braid (messy, but artfully so) just in time to hear the distinct growl of a motorcycle engine pulling into the driveway. 

He wandered back into his bedroom, slipped on his shoes, pocketed his key and his wallet and unplugged his cell phone. Bard had sent him a text to say he was outside. Just in case the whole neighborhood couldn't tell. Thranduil hopped his way happily down the stairs. He grabbed his jacket from the closet in the foyer just as his phone buzzed with another text. 

_finished getting ready, princess?_

Thranduil rolled his eyes and opened the front door to see Bard, sitting on his bike, both feet planted in the gravel of the driveway, both hands resting on his hips and a smirk on his dumb, dorky, completely gorgeous face. Thranduil maintained eye contact as he shrugged on his jacket, then turned around to lock the door. He could practically feel Bard's stare on his ass and he smirked, jumping down the front steps with a flourish. "Enjoying the view?" He asked as Bard held out his spare helmet to him. 

"I'm not blind," was all Bard said in reply. Thranduil couldn't help but to smile as he swung his leg over the motorcycle, settling in close behind Bard and wrapping his arms around the smooth leather of his jacket. 

Bard revved the engine and pulled out of the driveway without another word. Traffic was light this early on a weekend and Bard seemed to take every side street he could, coasting around corners and speeding down straightaways. Thranduil sighed happily, closing his eyes against the biting wind. The bike was hot, absolutely, but it was also _fun_ — exhilarating, and much less scary when he wasn't shitface drunk. 

Bard's house wasn't much to look at. It was small and humble and a little run down, but warm light poured through the windows and the smell of baked goods wafted through the front door as Thranduil stepped inside. Jeopardy was playing from another room and there was laughter echoing from upstairs. It was… jarring. Completely the opposite of Thranduil's house— grand and expensive and pretty to look at, but cold and empty. A poor excuse for a home. 

This house was different. This house was alive. 

A middle-aged man swept through the front door while Thranduil handed Bard his jacket. The man rustled his hand through Bard's hair, earning him a grumble and a frown, though the man ignored both as he circled around the kitchen table towards the fridge. A woman leaned against the doorway to the living room, sleeves pushed up above her elbows and an apron tied around her waist. Her hair was spilling over the tie of a sagging bun and she nibbled at the skin at the inside of her thumb. 

It was a habit Thranduil recognized— he'd seen Bard do the same thing while he studied. 

"What is Funeral for a Friend?" Bard's father muttered as he came to stand beside his wife, offering her a sip of the coke he'd just opened. She took the can without looking and kept her eyes on the TV, sipping carefully.

"What is Candle in the Wind," she corrected and handed the soda over just as the man on the small TV offered the same answer and won $200. 

"What?" Bard's father cried. He looked between the TV and his wife as she moved through the kitchen to check the oven. 

"Honestly, Arthur, you should know that one— It's Elton John for crying out loud!" 

The scene was so simple and domestic, it tied Thranduil's chest in knots. 

"We're going upstairs to study," Bard said as he sidestepped his mother to avoid a kiss, waving for Thranduil to follow him. 

"Alright, but remember, you're on your own for lunch today. I've got to get these cookies done and your sister out of the house in time for the bake sale at noon." She switched off the light in the oven and turned to Thranduil. "Hi, sweetie. I'm Evelyn, but all Bard's friends call me mom." 

"Yes mom. Thanks mom," Bard said, pointedly tugging at Thranduil's arm before he could reply. When they made it upstairs and reached the end of the narrow hall, Bard stepped aside to reveal a bedroom that might have been pulled straight out of a 90s movie. There were posters and banners everywhere, books and CDs piled high on bookcases and thrown across the floor. Photos and ticket stubs were taped up haphazardly above the headboard of an unmade bed. 

Thranduil's father would have killed him if he ever let his room get this messy— nevermind the fit he'd throw if Thranduil ever taped or— god forbid _tacked_ anything to the walls. Giggles and shouts and animated gunfire swarmed and billowed from down the hallway and Thranduil stood just inside the open door, one hand clutching his elbow tightly to his side and feeling completely overwhelmed. 

Bard brushed by him, shouting to his siblings to _please keep it down_ , before closing the door. "Sorry about the mess," he muttered, tossing a shirt and pair of jeans off the bed and into the corner, hastily making his bed. He flopped down by the pillow and frowned. "You alright, Princess?" 

"Yeah," Thranduil shook himself. "Yeah sorry. My house is nothing like this. It's just… a lot… I guess." 

"Aw," Bard crossed his legs and tipped his head, a devilish smile lighting his lips. "Princess isn't used to being amongst us lowly commoners?" 

"That's not what I meant," Thranduil scoffed. He bounced as he sat on the bed, the mattress and the frame creaking slightly beneath him. "It's just. My house is like a mausoleum compared to yours," he shrugged. 

"I know." 

"Thanks," Thranduil deadpanned. 

"Any time," lines fanned out around Bard's eyes and framed his mouth as he smiled. Thranduil rolled his eyes because Bard really wasn't _that_ cute— in fact he was kind of an asshole— and snatched the anatomy textbook from Bard's hands. 

By the time Bard's mother called up the stairs to say she was leaving, reminding Bard that they both needed to eat something for lunch (and wasn't that just weird? Thranduil's father never nagged him about lunch), they were nearly done with their report. 

The house was quiet when they made their way downstairs. Eerily quiet. "Where did everyone go?" Thranduil peeked around the doorway to the living room. The TV was off, the couch was empty. There was an old and faded rug beneath the cluttered coffee table and family photos covered every surface.

"Dad's probably in the garage. Mom took Aly to the bake sale and Kim is probably down the street." 

"Oh," Thranduil somehow felt even more uncomfortable than he had when Bard's parents had been bustling around the cramped kitchen.

"Do you wanna go grab a pizza?" Bard had been rummaging through the cabinets and the fridge, but had apparently found nothing edible inside. 

"Sure," Thranduil shrugged. He fumbled when Bard tossed his jacket to him, nearly missing but completely unwilling to admit he'd been too busy staring at Bard's ass— apparently he wasn't the only one who'd worn his best jeans today because _damn_. "Um. Don't you need your helmet?" Thranduil asked when Bard stepped out into the chilly autumn air. 

"There's a good place down on the corner, if the princess doesn't mind walking." Bard smirked as Thranduil pulled the door closed behind him. 

"Fuck you, Bowman," Thranduil nudged him with his shoulder as they started walking.

"If you insist, Princess." 

Thranduil shook his head and fought down the blush that threatened to rise on his cheeks. "Why do you call me that?" 

"You literally screamed like a girl and ran off to fix your hair in the middle of our first dissection." Bard laughed.

"Oh whatever, asshat. You'd be grossed out too if your hair was long enough to land in formaldehyde." 

"It's not just you and your hair, Princess. I smelled like that stuff for a day after every lab. You don't see me whining about it." 

"You were covered in enough engine grease to cover up the smell anyway." 

"Say what you want, but I know you like my bike. And everything that comes with it," Bard winked and stopped in front of a small pizza parlor, holding the door open and waiting for Thranduil to walk through. Thranduil frowned, but he could feel his cheeks heating up. He shuffled his way inside with a muttered _thank you_. 

"So, let me guess. Vegetarian pizza for you? Broccoli? Spinach? Mushrooms?" 

"As if," Thranduil scoffed and quirked one eyebrow. "Meat lover's for me." Thranduil held his head high and looked on with a smirk of his own as Bard turned bright red from his ears all the way down to the neckline of his shirt. He coughed and approached the counter while Thranduil turned to find a place to sit.

Bard stayed up by the counter while waiting for his pizza. His leg was bouncing distractedly and he was probably still blushing like a schoolgirl. Thranduil smiled at the thought. 

Thranduil's phone buzzed with a new text message. It was from his father. He sighed and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, smile gone from his face. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh only to see Bard walking towards him with a box of pizza in his hands. 

"Come on," he nodded towards the door, "Let's go." 

"I thought we were eating here," Thranduil frowned, but stood and followed Bard out onto the sidewalk regardless. 

"We can eat at my place," Bard said, already a couple of feet ahead and forcing Thranduil to jog in order to catch up. 

"You alright?" 

"Mhm," Bard said. His mouth was pressed into a thin line and his eyes were focused straight ahead as he walked. They reached Bard's house in nearly half the time their first trip had taken. Bard burst inside and left Thranduil to close the door behind him. 

"What the—" 

While Thranduil was closing the door gently, Bard had apparently dropped the pizza on the table. Thranduil turned around to find him invading his personal space, cheeks still flushed and eyes wide and heated. His hands were on Thranduil's chest, backing him up until his shoulders hit the door. It was all very familiar, though their positions were reversed. 

His lips were dry from the cold air outside, but they were still as soft as Thranduil remembered. He opened his eyes when Bard inched away, breathless and trapped between the wood of the door and the press of Bard's chest. Bard's gaze was ravenous, eyes lidded, pupils blown wide, lips just slightly swollen around the bite of his teeth.

Then the garage door slid open outside, cutting through the silence of the moment and breaking whatever spell had fallen over both of them. Thranduil was left cold and confused when Bard tore himself away, but he followed close behind when Bard snatched the pizza from the table and dashed up the stairs. 

Thranduil was laughing when they burst through Bard's bedroom door. 

"What?" Bard asked, still breathless from their flight up the stairs, the hurried walk down the street, and the kisses he'd stolen in between. 

"You— Is this why you were so anxious all the way here? Is it because of the comment I made at the pizza place?" Thranduil clutched at his side as he laughed. "Did a bad dick joke really get you _this_ worked up?" Thranduil sagged against the wall, gasping in between fits of giggles. 

"Princess," Bard growled, his voice much closer than Thranduil had expected. "Shut. Up." Bard was on him again, arms draped over Thranduil's shoulders and hands diving into the frayed strands of his braid. 

Bard's teeth were sharp against the meat of Thranduil's lip and he _tugged_ just enough to force a whimper from Thranduil's throat and drag him away from the wall. He extracted his fingers from the mess Thranduil's hair had become and slid his hands beneath the collar of Thranduil's jacket, pushing it from his shoulders before tearing at his own. 

Bard stumbled as he fought to free his arms from his sleeves, catching himself on Thranduil's shoulders. Thranduil stood to his full height, heaving breath sharply through his nose and pulling Bard against him, running his hands over the strong angle of his waist and the _perfect_ curve of his ass. 

There was a knock on the door then, rapid and sharp and giving them absolutely no warning before the bedroom door swung open. Thranduil wrenched himself away from Bard, his lips, and those jeans. He coughed and wiped the spit from his lips as _yet another_ blush crept onto his cheeks. 

"Hey boys," Bard's father called from the doorway, voice chipper and eyes laughing. "Is that pizza I smell?"

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think!!


End file.
